Coming Home
by Kite1
Summary: There wasn't enough Jane/Hook interaction in Return to Never Land, because, of course, that would be icky--like her flirting with her mother's old crush isn't. I realize this makes me sound like a J/H shipper--I'm not. So, :p to Disney, and without furthe


Notes: "Everywhere," as her most popular song, obviously belongs to Michelle Branch; I don't in any way claim ownership of Peter Pan. Same goes for Aladdin.  
A thousand apologies, o patient ones (kudos to you if you recognized the Aladdin reference,) for taking so long. This was turning into a real chore to write, so I took a break from it to make sure it didn't turn out to be a real chore to read, too. Hope I didn't strike any nerves *nervous grin*. Then my dad wouldn't let me on the computer when it was ready, so blame him, not me :)  
At this rate, the notes will be longer than the story. All right, you can read now.

COMING HOME  
A Short Story

_And when I close my eyes  
It's you I see_

Jane groaned, dropping her head into her hands. Only one hour ago Hook had found her, and already she was seeing him everywhere. Her head was whirling.

Take his offer, and Peter's treasure would be lost; he would most likely think of her as a traitor forever. Refuse it, and she might never find a way home. It seemed an easy choice; if she did as he'd specified, she wouldn't have to worry about what Peter thought. Besides, the treasure _was_ rightfully his. It was all a game to Pan.  
Hook's sneering face seemed to pop up everywhere; she whimpered fearfully, clutching her coat around her. _Leave the light on, Mummy, your baby boy's coming home..._

A nagging doubt resurfaced in her brain-- could she trust a pirate? He had kidnapped her, and Peter had been the one to come to her rescue. It was a shame, too... just when he was beginning to grow on her, she was plotting to betray him.

But then, what kind of person cut off another human's hand-- and fed it to a crocodile in front of his victim?

_Hook-- no-- Peter-- no-- both of them-- you twit..._

Exhausted, she sank to the earth beneath her tree, and slept.

***

"Father!" she cried, swiping a hand through the mists before her.  
_Father's gone to war,_ the voice answered. It was low, nasal, and trollishly cunning by its very nature...  
_Hook!_ she gasped to herself, peering urgently ahead.  
"Mother!"  
_Mother's at home, worrying herself sick..._  
_Mother..._ she sniffed, feeling queasy at the thought. _I'm making Mother worry..._  
"Danny!"  
_The only way back to Danny is to fly..._  
"Well, then, Peter Pan, where are you?!"  
_He's lounging about in his hammock, waiting for you to come groveling back to his hideout..._  
_He's right,_ she thought furiously, clenching her fists stubbornly as tears began to form. _If Peter won't help, well, all I need to fly is pixie dust, and Tinker Bell's a pixie..._  
"Tinker Bell!"  
She appeared, shimmering faintly on the ground beside her; her skin had a bluish tinge to it. She wasn't moving.  
"Tinker Bell!" she screamed, nearly hyperventilating at the image.  
_"Tinker Bell!"_

She writhed in fear, sweat breaking out on her feverish brow, eyes shut tightly-- and they sprang open. Looking around wildly, half-believing the dream was real, she sprang to all fours, tears running down her face. Then reality sank in, and she relaxed, letting out a gutteral sound that reeked of fear...  
_Tinker Bell..._

Hugging her knees, she toyed with the shining bronze whistle Hook had given her. Thoughts of home haunted her. As much as she wanted to go back, thoughts of Peter wouldn't let her alone either.

***

Jane hopped from stone to stone, the water lapping gently at her toes. She thought she could see a glimmer of gold somewhere inside the cave before her.

"Oof!"

She fell flat on her face into the cool sand heap inside. Lifting her head and shaking the sand from her bangs, she looked up-- gasped-- and broke into a wide grin. There, wide open and overflowing with gold and jewels-- there was even a crown, she saw, grinning at the thought that it was probably Peter's-- was a rotting wooden chest. She fingered the whistle-- _when you find the treasure, just give this... a wee toot..._  
_I have to go home..._  
_But I can't betray Peter._  
_What would Mother say? Better yet, what would she do?_  
Suddenly decided, she flung the offending trinket away, watching with vindictive satisfaction as it clattered down the cave's wall, landing with a slight splash in the far shallows.

***

Thanks go to:  
Julie, my little sister (I did more! Ya happy?); deathslover; Miss Mari; Ashley, a fellow supporter of Peter and Jane as only friends; Theed; Cat's Meow; kiki; Fearless Kitty; Dawn Bridges, who was very helpful, reviewing both _You Remind Me_ and _Wanted To Fly,_ with sharp suggestions for both. (yes, the first one was short, but any more would have been overdoing it-- plus, I was brain-dead when I wrote it;) and Luna, writer of the first rave (okay, not really) review I've ever gotten. It's very heartening to know people are enjoying your work.  
(All together now:) Thank you! (you wonderful, wonderful people! :)) 


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